


and if there's a reason

by Macremae



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Drabble, Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7472109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovelace reflects on time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and if there's a reason

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this suuuuper quickly in a burst of inspiration, and it's nothing spectacular but I kinda like it so here ya go.

She's old for her age.

It's there in the lines and dark circles beneath her eyes, much too prominent to be healthy.

It's there in how she carries herself, as someone who once held their head up and shoulders back, but can now barely muster the energy to stand. Stooped and tired, but with the barest hint of defiance in her squared stance.

It's there how she speaks, with the wisdom and worldliness of an ancient war veteran (which, she supposes, is half true), using astrological and mechanical terms most college professors haven't even heard of yet.

It's there in her gaze, eons old and endlessly calculating. The kids at school saw it as a neat trick. The thugs who eyed her as she walked home from college credit plus classes saw it as a threat. Her commanding officers saw it as a sign of a loose canon. Goddard saw it as an opportunity.

They didn't see it as that for long.

Kepler's news is startling, yes, but nothing new. Something big has always been coming. Danger has always been present since she first came into this world, in a cramped hospital room in Brooklyn, screaming for everything she was worth. Besides, at least she gets some time to prepare.

There are no mirrors on the Hephaestus, which isn't really a big loss; nothing really to see. Tired face. Tired eyes. Tired human.

When do you stop living, and just start surviving?

After brushing her teeth (there's something she never thought she'd be able to do again), she quietly slips onto the Urania, and peeks in the restroom. It's there.

Holding her breath, she slowly stands in front of the mirror, and opens her eyes.

It's a completely different person.

The last time she'd seen herself was just before liftoff at Canaveral. She had been so nervous, but brimming with excitement. Finally, she was getting to lead, and be a part of, something truly important. 

The woman in the mirror is not the same one. Her hair is still dark and bushy, but it's dull and much, much shorter. Her eyes are less of a cloudy grey and more of a frozen steel; hardened and weary. She's much thinner, too. Long gone are the curves and muscles she was so superficially proud of, although the latter is still mostly present. There are scars that weren't there the last time, and freckles that used to be.

And yet, despite everything...

It's still her.

Still Isabelle Lovelace, tough as nails and sharp as them too. She's a little bonier, a little harder, and a helluva lot more paranoid, but it’s still her.

They thought they could change her?

They’ll wish they hadn’t.


End file.
